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by Hibibun



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Manipulation, Pre-Slash, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibibun/pseuds/Hibibun
Summary: Jon's steadily starting to realize that the Institute's priorities are not quite what they should be, and that maybe, he didn't understand his new position as well as he thought he did.for day 1 - s1
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52
Collections: Jonelias Week 2020





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**Author's Note:**

> i forgot how many times Jon brings up trying to talk to Elias about leitners and mentioning how it never went well, and well, wanted to write out one of those conversations.

“You really don’t consider any of this a concern?”

The clock in the corner of the room ticks and tocks as steady a rhythm as the pen scratching whatever report Elias is working on while Jon tries to conduct their meeting. He hadn’t gone through the typical procedure of scheduling it—finding it far more pressing how increasingly little the man before him cared about the things people actually told them in statements.

“Oh, they’re a concern alright, but not necessarily to us, or this institution. Not to mention, it has nothing to do with what we’re here for, as I believe I’ve _told_ you before,” Elias flicks his attention up briefly from his docket to catch Jon’s eyes. He’d think they look beautiful if it weren’t for how piercingly hollow they looked—devoid of warmth, but brimming with intensity at whatever they gazed at. Searching him for something, but he never knows what.

It makes Jon shiver for a moment, and he looks away instead to the plaque on the front of the desk. _Vigilo. Audio. Opperior._ The institute’s motto mocks him, reflecting perfectly Elias’s chiding.

He sighs. Puts down his pen and steeples his hands; the perfect image of a boss pretending to sympathize.

“Jon, do you know why I picked you as the new Head Archivist?” He asks, that patient tone threaded with weariness as if he’s about to explain something simple to a child. Jon feels a prickle of irritation just hearing it, knowing that not only will he have to humor it—that unfortunately, he is a little curious.

“No. Frankly, it came out of nowhere—not that I’m not appreciative of the opportunity, as I’ve already said,” Jon answers, though starting to wonder if that was entirely true given just how deeply uncared for the archives have been. It’s a big and irritating job, but he also can’t deny the particular things that have come to light since he’s started. Things that he had come in here to try and sort out to little avail.

His hand moves to hold his side, trying not to think of age old memories of a young man and fuzzy limbs. Of a different cursed tome and how even now he seems unable to feel any less helpless than when he’d been eight.

Elias smiles at him, and he doesn’t know what it means. Politeness, surely, but it feels off. Wrong.

“You have a tenacity to scour for the truth, which is something I admire. I know many of the statements we get in have a tendency to be… less than reputable. Many would be bogged down by that and give up—but I can tell there is something you’re seeking and I know you have the drive to reach it,” he explains lightly, the praise sounding genuine before it dips.

“However, that is also why I cannot encourage you to seek things too recklessly. Finding, let alone containing any of these books would be a waste of time and a needless risk I will not push upon anyone here. If they happen to find their way to us, then by all means, but otherwise, if we know what it can do from the statements, there is no other need to find—”

“But what if it gets someone else? We have a storage for these things and—” Jon’s interruption has him leaning forward and placing a hand on the edge of the desk, not quite slamming it before Elias cuts him off.

“ _Jon_ , what is it that you are hired to do right now? You were a researcher, but what is it that you do now?”

“I-I, you know. You _made_ me Head Archivist.”

“Yes, and what does that mean? What does an _archivist_ do?”

Jon swallows, before answering. His voice feels too faint for such a simple question.

“Well, an archivist archives. Should anyway, Gertrude didn’t seem to do so in any manner, but… we organize and catalogue what’s been given. Make sense of the mess, I suppose.”

Elias is smiling again. “Good. So can you understand how this doesn’t fit in not only your duties, but under any of the institutes values or positions? We take stories, we follow them up. We look for truth, and we archive what we have learned. Anything else beyond that… is not our concern.”

The ticking of the clock resurges as Jon’s head spins. He can’t understand what it is about the conversation that feels so unnatural, but important. It’s different than the last few times he’s raised this concern, and yet, he cannot figure out what it is that Elias is telling him differently now that matters so heavily. His silence must weigh just as much, because what feels like minutes later, Elias’s voice reaches him as if on the end of a tunnel.

“Jon, are you alright? You look a little ill,” the man starts, now standing and moving around the desk to help ease him into one of the chairs he forewent sitting in. His hand lingers on Jon’s arm and it should bother him how strangely pleasant it feels. He prefers not to be touched, let alone assisted with something like this. 

“I’m fine?” He answers, still with that stilted far away feeling, his response coming off more as a question than a certainty. Elias is still close and waits an extra moment before squeezing his shoulder, drifting back to the other side of the desk.

“Well, take the next few moments to compose yourself. Wouldn’t want you to take a tumble on the stairs.”

“Right,” Jon’s eyes follow him, even while his voice feels distant and tinny. He still doesn’t understand.


End file.
